


Puppy Love

by lindenmae



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Puppies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 22:12:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindenmae/pseuds/lindenmae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is convinced that his Doberman puppy, Alfie, may very well be the devil in disguise, and even though he loves Alfie dearly, he's on his last nerve when Ariadne suggests a puppy playcamp.  Arthur just wants Alfie to pee where he's supposed to, but both man and dog leave the dog park that day with a pretty serious case of puppy love after meeting Eames and his prim little Pitbull, Isobel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puppy Love

**Author's Note:**

> PUPPIES. That is all.
> 
> er, well no it's not. There are a couple of pop culture references in here. Two instances referencing the first episode of Welcome to Night Vale and one convoluted reference to Game of Thrones. I couldn't keep writing dog park and not reference Night Vale. I wasn't strong enough.
> 
> Thank you so much to The_leveret for the awesome artwork that inspired this story! Go comment [here](http://the-leveret.livejournal.com/19047.html)

“Catherine, wait!”

The front door to his apartment slams and Arthur is left reaching toward it, clenching and unclenching his fingers, Catherine’s name still dying on his lips. After Catherine’s angry footsteps fade out of earshot, a sharp and tiny bark breaks him out of his reverie and he glares at the floor, at his three month old Doberman Pinscher chewing smugly on a piece of red leather – what is left of Catherine’s Louboutins.

“You’re a menace,” Arthur says and the puppy just stares straight back at him, head held high as he lifts one leg and pees on the floor right in front of the door. Arthur swears the puppy’s eyes narrow, like he’s challenging Arthur to do something about it. When Arthur doesn’t, just watches in disbelief and horror, the puppy yips once, content, and ambles over to the pee pad Arthur has laid out in the kitchen – the pee pad Arthur is certain the puppy does know how to use- and lays down to continue chewing on the red leather until it’s digestible.

                                                             …

“He’s a menace, Ariadne,” Arthur laments into his phone, watching the puppy chew happily on Arthur’s once favorite pair of sheep’s wool slippers. There is wool all over his apartment - little white clouds strewn across the floor in every single room, even in rooms that Arthur swears had closed doors.

“He’s a puppy.”

“He’s the devil.”

“Arthur, you’re being ridiculous. He’s just a baby, you have to be patient with him.”

“He’s trying to ruin my life. Alfie, no!” The puppy is happily chewing away at a piece of wool, obviously trying to get it all in his mouth so that he can swallow and digest it, then poop it out somewhere on Arthur’s hardwood floors.

“Oh, you named him Alfie? Arthur, that’s so sweet. Like the Jude Law movie?” Ariadne coos over the connection.

“Not exactly,” Arthur mutters. They’re at a standoff – Arthur on his knees slowly inching forward, Alfie staring hard right back at him, a piece of wool still hanging out of the side of his mouth. Arthur makes a sudden grab for it and Alfie jerks away, pulling the wool in past his sharp, little teeth and swallowing with a deliberate gulp. “I made a mistake, Ariadne. I know I don’t admit that I’m wrong very often –“

“Try _ever_.”

“I don’t think I can do this. Obviously I’m not a dog person. I should have gotten a cat. Cats basically take care of themselves. A cat wouldn’t be trying to ruin my life.”

“Cats are tiny dictators, Arthur, complete with murderous tendencies. I doubt you’d be any better off.“

“Ariadne! This is serious! This dog has it out for me. He _ate_ Catherine’s Louboutins and he chewed the handle off of Aubrey’s Louis. You don’t even want to know what he did to Martin’s belt.”

Ariadne sighs audibly. “Sounds to me like he doesn’t like you having strangers in the house.”

“My sex life is over,” Arthur groans.

There’s a rustle of paper in the background on Ariadne’s side and she makes an interested chirp. “Oh! They’re starting a puppy play camp at the dog park! That’s perfect! There will be ‘licensed dog handlers there weekend mornings to help you get your rambunctious pup under control,’” she reads off, sounding awed.

“I don’t need help. I need an exorcist because my dog is Satan.”

“I’m beginning to really hope you’re not planning on having children. It says that it’s really important for puppies to be properly socialized when they’re still young so they won’t be aggressive towards other dogs when they’re older, and they can teach you methods to train your pup specialized to their breed or dominant breed traits. That’s perfect. I’m going to sign you up.”

“Ariadne –“

“Saturday at nine at the dog park.”

“Ariad-ne…” Arthur trails off as he realizes Ariadne’s already hung up and he’s talking to himself. Alfie barks and a bit of white fluff floats out of his mouth.

…

Arthur does bring Alfie to the dog park that Saturday, mostly because he’d rather not suffer Ariadne’s judgment if he doesn’t. It would be nice if Alfie would start going to the bathroom on the pads too, but Arthur’s pretty sure that’s an unreachable dream. He’s early, but there’s already a fairly decent sized group of people gathered just inside the gates. When Alfie sees the other dogs, he strains in his tiny harness, yipping wildly. One of the members of the group turns her head at Alfie’s fit and smiles.

“Are you checking up on me,” Arthur mutters when he gets through the gates, bending over and picking Alfie up before he can try to maul anybody’s feet.

“Obviously,” Ariadne smirks.

Alfie starts to squirm in his arms, whining and grunting like a piglet. Alfie has hated everyone Arthur’s brought home in the short time he’s had to claim Arthur’s apartment as his own, but he loves Ariadne. Arthur has the presence of mind to put him back on the ground before he pees from excitement, but it turns out to be a bad idea when Alfie tries to take off like a shot in the opposite direction, nearly knocking Arthur off balance.

“Alfie!” Arthur’s chastisement does nothing- not like he expected it to- and Alfie continues to struggle against the leash, trying to get back out of the dog park and straight at an almost exact version of himself. Alfie’s doppelganger is trotting along patiently at the side of a full grown female Doberman.

“Hey, buddy!” No matter how hard Arthur tries to reel Alfie in, the puppy isn’t having it, trying desperately to get at the other two dogs. “Looks like he’s excited to see his mom and brother.”

“Dom?” Arthur has to bodily resist the urge to roll his eyes and groan, because of course it’s Dom Cobb _strutting_ up the path with his perfectly well-behaved dogs keeping time with every step.

“Hey, Arthur! Ariadne told me you were having a little trouble with the pup. She mentioned this camp and I thought I’d come by and check it out, maybe get a few tips for Sigmund.”

Dom shoots him a genuine grin and claps Arthur on the shoulder, sending Arthur stumbling forward a step. Alfie sees it and starts to snarl, excitement over the other dogs forgotten immediately. He snaps his little jaws at the hem of Dom’s jeans and Dom just laughs, because Alfie is too small to do any real damage yet. Arthur decides to pick his little ball of rage up again anyway just in case. He casts a glance at the puppy Dom and his wife decided to keep - sitting calmly next to his mother - and snorts. Alfie snorts too. Arthur takes it as a sign of camaraderie even though it might be more of a sneeze.

By nine, the park is host to a horde of excited, yipping puppies and their frazzled parents. Ariadne gets bored five minutes into the start of the camp and takes Edith - Alfie and Sigmund’s mother - over to the playground where Dom’s wife is watching their kids, leaving Arthur to contain Alfie all on his own while Dom’s puppy puts them to shame by acting like it’s sane. Arthur does start to feel better pretty much immediately though, since he’s obviously not the only first time owner there and Alfie may not actually be the worst of the bunch. There’s an Australian Shepherd a few feet over that keeps trying to climb the fence every time her owner so much as glances away. What’s frightening is how close the puppy keeps getting to succeeding.

The handlers explain some things about properly socializing puppies and why it’s important to do it early. Arthur makes sure to pay attention when they mention the times they’ll be going over potty training specifically; he looks down at Alfie in his arms meaningfully and Alfie looks back up at him like he understands that’s what they’re here for, then he tries to bite Arthur’s nose.

The dog park is a lot bigger once inside than it seems from the street. The area where the puppy camp is taking place is sectioned off from the rest of it – there are at least three other sections housing owners with full grown dogs, a shallow swimming hole, and an obstacle course. Arthur gets distracted watching a woman run the course with a dog whose breed he can’t readily identify and when she’s done, he lets his eye wander until it settles on another participant in the puppy play camp. There’s a man just a few feet away in their little enclosure wearing a black hoodie and track pants and Arthur’s heart rate picks up. The man’s hood is pulled up over his head, shadowing his face, and he’s holding a purple leash connected to a little silver Pitbull at his feet. The knee-jerk feeling Arthur gets is apprehension at the man’s dark clothing and his slouchy posture, but the puppy’s collar is formed into an actual bow and even from here, Arthur can see the collar is printed in purple paisley like a bandana. The final picture is fairly absurd and Arthur can’t help but grin a little manically as he watches the hooded figure inside the dog park.

“I think we’re in Night Vale, Alfie,” he snorts softly, but not quite softly enough. The other man turns his head sharply to catch Arthur staring. His first instinct is to look away guiltily and pretend to be totally enraptured by something else, but the man reaches up to push his hood down and flashes a brilliant smile at Arthur, like they’re both in on the same joke. The tiny smile Arthur offers up in return is as involuntary as the quick flutter in his chest. Beneath the hood the man is startlingly handsome. Too bad Alfie has put an embargo on Arthur’s romantic liaisons for the foreseeable future.

Arthur’s forced back into paying attention when Dom suddenly knocks against his shoulder. The handlers are encouraging owners to take their puppies off their leashes. Arthur really doesn’t want to do that.

“C’mon, Arthur. He weighs five pounds max. That bark of his is vicious, but I’m pretty sure he’s not going to hurt anybody,” Dom laughs, unclipping Sigmund from his leash without hesitation. Of course Sigmund doesn’t go anywhere, just stares up at Dom with adoring eyes.

“Yeah, I know. I’m not… That’s not… That’s not what I’m worried about,” Arthur mutters, but he clutches Alfie to his chest a little tighter anyway, until the pup grunts in protest.

“You’ve got to put him down, Arthur. He’s going to have a hard time socializing with other dogs from all the way up there.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I will.” But he doesn’t. The way Alfie is squirming in his arms, desperate to be released, isn’t helping things.

Despite what he told Ariadne, Arthur knows exactly why, when Dom’s Doberman had her first litter, he decided to take one of them home and he knows exactly why he picked Alfie out of all of them. Alfie was the smallest, but he was obviously the bravest, he was the first to bark and even though he was the last to wean, he was the first to venture away from his mother. Mal said she was forever finding the little runt halfway across the room while his brothers and sisters slept in the nest of blankets that had been designated as theirs. Alfie reminded Arthur of himself, especially as a child – small but determined. And the fact was: Arthur was lonely. He’s twenty nine with a steady job and a place to live and an apparently chronic inability to get further than three dates with anyone. Alfie’s presence hasn’t actually hindered him all that much in the romance department. He was blowing that all on his own before the puppy came into his life. At least now he has someone to eat breakfast with.

Arthur isn’t afraid that Alfie’s going to hurt anyone. He’s afraid _Alfie_ will get hurt or lost or will decide the Aussie pup has got the right idea and will try to get away at all costs. He knows he’s being irrational… probably. Dom just rolls his eyes and walks away, and surprise, surprise: Sigmund follows without even having to be told to heel. No puppy should be that well-behaved. It’s eerie.

“That’s like a Stepford dog right there. Ain’t normal.” Arthur starts at the warm chuckle right behind him and turns. Alfie barks in protest and is met with an answering yip from the ground. The man with the black hood and the Pitbull is standing there, smiling sheepishly. “You not planning to let your little man off the leash then?”

He’s British. He has an accent and his voice is kind of raspy like his throat is sore and the places Arthur’s mind goes from there are entirely inappropriate for a grown man holding a baby animal in public.

“I am,” Arthur mumbles defensively, but he’s too distracted by the way the man’s eyes are crinkling at the corners. He can’t even tell what color they are, but they’re sparkling with mirth even though Arthur doesn’t feel like he’s being laughed at.

“Eames,” the man says, offering his hand and a lopsided smile. His teeth are adorably crooked and Arthur feels weak in the knees. “And this little lady is Isobel.” He nods at the Pitbull, who is staring hard at Alfie like she can Jedi mind trick Arthur into putting him down to play.

It becomes clear pretty quickly that if Arthur doesn’t want to be rude he’s going to have to. Alfie’s squirming has sailed right past awkward and now Arthur is aware he just looks ridiculous, so he bends over slowly and gingerly places Alfie on the ground in front of Isobel. It doesn’t matter in the end how gentle he is though, Alfie is so eager to get to the other puppy that he scratches Arthur’s forearm in his efforts to tackle Isobel from midair. The handshake is forgotten as Arthur hisses and tries to pull his arm to his chest like that will stop the sting. Eames grasps his hand and turns his forearm up to catch the sunlight. Arthur just stands there dumbfounded when Eames doesn’t let his hand go, instead curling thick fingers around Arthur’s slimmer ones.

“That doesn’t look too bad,” Eames muses, absently running his thumb over Arthur’s palm. Arthur’s tongue feels too thick for his mouth so he just nods dumbly. There’s no blood, just four raised, red lines stretching across his pale skin. Eames seems to suddenly realize he’s been holding Arthur’s hand an inappropriately long time and he lets it go, but his fingertips linger on Arthur’s knuckles and his smile doesn’t fade at all. “What’s your name then, darling?”

It should sound so sleazy, but Arthur’s stuttering heart completely disagrees.

“Arthur. That’s Alfie,” he adds, gesturing despairingly at his dog, who is doing his best to gnaw the purple bow off of Isobel’s collar. The Pitbull doesn’t seem to mind, happily doing the same to one of Alfie’s back legs with dull baby teeth that Alfie clearly can barely feel.

Eames doesn’t seem to care much about the damage Alfie is doing because his smile only seems to get brighter.

“Like the Lilly Allen song,” he says and Arthur feels himself grinning a little too because that’s close enough.

“Um, yeah, he’s not exactly named after Alfie Allen, but that’s where I got the name from.”

Eames chuckles and kneels down in front of the wrestling puppies. They stop and look up at him with wide eyes. “I see. Theon Greyjoy is a bit of a mouthful for such a little guy. You don’t look much like a follower of the old ways,” he says, chucking Alfie gently under the chin with the knuckle of his index finger.

It’s not even that Eames got Alfie’s namesake that leaves Arthur dumbstruck. It’s that, while Alfie does try to nip at Eames’s finger, he’s not growling or barking or anything. In fact, his tail is actually wagging pretty furiously.

An announcement comes over a bullhorn, stating that they’re going over potty training techniques on the other side of the enclosure. Arthur seriously debates just letting Alfie pee wherever he wants for the rest of his life so that he can stay and keep talking with Eames, but that would defeat the whole purpose of them coming here. He’s about to do something impulsive and ask for Eames’s number when he hears his name being called. He glances over his shoulder to see Ariadne and Dom with their hands on their hips, looking judgmental and impatient respectively. When he looks back, Eames has his phone out and is frowning down at it. For a second Arthur thinks Eames will ask for _his number_ , but he just looks up and quirks one side of his mouth in a halfhearted attempt at a smile.

“Was nice to meet you, Arthur. I do hope I’ll see you again,” he’s saying as he clips Isobel back onto her leash and Arthur is left staring after him as he walks away, Isobel looking back mournfully at Alfie even she trots obediently behind Eames.

“I fell in love instantly,” Arthur mutters sadly down at Alfie, who looks right back up at him and whimpers sympathetically.

…

“I need to borrow Alfie,” Ariadne tells him a week later, having shown up at his door unannounced.

“Why?” Arthur stares at her with what he knows is his most unimpressed bitch face, raised eyebrow and arms crossed over his chest, and doesn’t let her into his apartment. Of course Alfie loses his mind at the sound of her voice and all of his yipping from his pen in the kitchen isn’t doing much to reinforce Arthur’s stance.

“There’s this organic pet store down the street and the guy who owns it is really cute and it’s going to look weird if I keep going in there and buying things for a dog I don’t have. So just let me borrow Alfie for an hour, tops, and he will get all the gluten-free dog bones he can eat and I won’t look like a crazy person.”

“There’s a flaw in your logic. If this guy does eventually ask you out, he’s going to find out that you don’t actually have a dog.”

“That is so far down the line, Arthur. The things I might do to get a date cannot be held against me once the date actually occurs.”

“That doesn’t even-“ “Fine, then come with me. Either way, I am going there to buy dog treats with an actual dog. _Your_ dog.”

“You’re going to spoil him,” Arthur says petulantly, but Ariadne doesn’t even hear him. She’s already shoved past him into the apartment, cooing at a decibel so high Alfie should be the only one who can hear her.

“We’re gonna go to the pet store, aren’t we, Alfie? Aren’t we? Who’s gonna get mama Ariadne a date? Is it you? Is it a sweet guy like you? I think it is. I think it iiiiis.” Alfie yips happily as she lifts him out of his pen.

“I have to work,” Arthur tries to token protest, but it’s worthless. Ariadne is already walking out the door with Alfie in her arms, gleefully licking her chin wherever he can reach. Arthur really has no choice but to grab Alfie’s leash and harness and his wallet and follow along.

…

“Ariadne, that’s the guy. That’s him! Holy shit!”

“Yeah I know, Arthur. That’s why we’re here. Hey, how do you know Yusuf?”

“ _Not Yusuf._ Who’s Yusuf?”

“Who are you talking about?”

“The guy from the park! Eames! Oh dear God.”  It’s only after Arthur has whisper-shouted Eames’s name that he realizes he’s not really whispering anymore. Eames turns his head, sees Arthur and smiles, and Arthur’s stomach explodes into butterflies. He tries to duck behind a display of cat toys but Ariadne’s blocking the way.

“Arthur!” She shrieks and really she is just the worst friend ever. Arthur tries to tell her that with his eyes, but she’s too busy looking at him like he’s insane to get the message.

“Arthur?” Oh God. He’s coming over and Arthur’s still trying to hide behind a bunch of sticks with feathers on the end. This shouldn’t even be that embarrassing of a situation except that Arthur can’t quite figure out how to recover at this point. He’s normally poised, put together, suave even, but ever since Alfie came into his life, things haven’t been going as smoothly as they used to.

“Eames,” he says, straightening and coughing to hide the slight crack in his voice. “What a nice coincidence. Where’s Isobel?”

“Very nice,” Eames says with a smile, rolling the ‘r’ obscenely. His face closes off briefly when he looks at Ariadne, but it only lasts a second and then he’s grinning again, eyes crinkling like they did that day at the park. “Had to leave her at home for the day. She’ll be very sad to know she missed your little man. I was just stopping by on my way home to have a chat with my friend over there. You know Yusuf?” He tilts his head over his shoulder at the man behind the counter.

The man glances up briefly at the mention of his name, but looks down again immediately, hiding a small smile, at the same time Ariadne suddenly takes an intense interest in her shoes.

“Ariadne buys Alfie’s dog treats here,” Arthur says, shrugging, a little confused when Eames’s expression falls again. The mask goes back up just as quickly, but it’s a little see-through this time.

“Your girlfriend?” Eames is already taking a step back, squaring his shoulders, lips pressing tight together like he’s forcing his smile now.

“No!” Ariadne and Arthur both say at the same time, loudly enough to startle themselves and Eames, whose eyes go wide. Alfie barks the exclamation point.

“We’re friends,” Ariadne insists. “Just friends.” She glances pointedly at Yusuf as she says it.

“Oh, well then.” Eames’s smile turns genuine again, and he takes a step back into Arthur’s space. “I suppose it wouldn’t be completely gauche of me to ask you out in front of her, then.”

Ariadne rolls her eyes and tries to back away discreetly, but neither man is looking at her anyway.

“I would like that. Very much,” Arthur says, just before pandemonium breaks out as the ball bin a few feet away suddenly begins to expel its contents, volleyballs and tennis balls and every other kind of ball bouncing and rolling down every aisle in the store. Alfie looks up at them from beside a chewed up hole in the netting, stubby little tail beating a rhythm against the linoleum, little pieces of black rope visible in his teeth when he opens his mouth to bark.

…

Arthur gets to the agreed upon meeting spot early, of course he does, and it’s not helpful at all for his nerves. Arthur is compulsively efficient, but as he walks up to the gates of the dog park, he wonders if he couldn’t have bent his own rules just this once. He's not normally a nervous person, but ever since he met Eames his stomach has refused to settle entirely. Just thinking Eames’s name sets the butterflies to stirring in a way no other person has ever done.

Arthur waits at the gates, Alfie’s leash wrapped around his wrist, and obsessively checks his cuffs and that his shirt’s still tucked in. Then he does it again, and a third time for good measure. He tries to get Alfie to sit at his feet, but the puppy won’t listen for anything, completely enraptured with a dandelion shoot growing at the base of the fence. He opens his mouth as wide as it will go and chomps at the dandelion before Arthur can stop him and promptly sneezes so forcefully he’s thrown into a somersault, landing on the other side of Arthur’s shoes from where he started.

Pre-Alfie Arthur would not have sighed fondly and definitely would not found this adorable at all, but now Arthur can’t stifle his chuckle at the way Alfie looks up at him, totally befuddled at what just happened.

“You’re ridiculous,” Arthur tells his puppy, and squats to ruffle Alfie’s ears.

“Now that’s a right precious sight.”

Alfie’s ears perk up and he wrenches his head out from under Arthur’s hand to see Eames and Isobel coming up the path. Alfie shoots off toward the pair, causing Arthur to stumble as he stands. It’s ungraceful and should be embarrassing, but the smile on Eames’s face is so warm and amused that Arthur just blushes and smiles back, trying to keep a solid grip on his dog.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hello, Arthur.” Eames is wearing jeans and a shirt so sinfully tight it looks painted on. Arthur can definitely see the outline of Eames's nipples. Definitely. His hair is gelled to the side, which seems like it would better suit someone from another era, but Eames carries himself with a confidence Arthur can’t help but find attractive.

It’s awkward at first, as all first dates are, neither of them sure what to say when silences fall, but it’s not terrible. The silences aren’t that awful really, both of them stealing little glances at each other as they walk. The first time Eames catches him looking, Arthur turns away immediately, but the second and the third time he lets his eyes linger and he catches the little upticks at the corner of Eames’s mouth. The butterflies don’t leave him all night, but they’re not as unwelcome as they might normally be.

“I’m an actor,” Eames tells him as they walk the dogs toward the little lake at the center of the park. He shrugs his shoulders a little, like it’s nothing impressive. “Stage mostly, but my agent’s convinced me to start going for some screen roles. S’where I had to run off to the other day. Had a callback. I felt so stupid for not getting your number. Luck must have been on my side though, eh?”

Eames bumps his shoulder into Arthur’s and grins, a little sheepish, but with a twinkle in his eye that brings a blush to Arthur’s cheeks.

“You don’t want to be famous?” Arthur hedges, because he’s a bit of a pessimist at heart.

Eames shakes his head, chuckling. “Do I detect a hint of condescension in your tone?”

Arthur colors and hunches his shoulders, only slightly chagrined but Eames’s smile doesn’t falter.

“Fame’s not what it’s about for me. S’why I prefer the theater. I do it for the sake of the craft, mostly. I don’t say no when people insist on giving me money for it though.”

Arthur stifles a snort and arches a brow at Eames, waiting in patient, judgmental silence, until Eames rehashes his words in his head.

“Oh dear. That sounded a bit filthy, didn’t it?” Arthur laughs, loud and clear, at how completely unashamed Eames looks, head held high and a shit devouring grin on his face.

“Want to get something to eat?” He suggests, nodding back toward the street, where the city lights are twinkling against the darkening sky.

“That sounds brilliant, yeah.” Eames starts to lean in and Arthur’s butterflies go haywire because it looks a lot like Eames is about to kiss him. He is very much on board with this development. So on board.

Arthur doesn’t count on his dog not being on board with the plan though, so he’s confused when there’s a sudden yank on his arm and the world starts to spin, Eames’s face coming in and out of focus as Arthur violently stumbles in the opposite direction of Eames’s pursed lips.

“ALFIE, NO!” He shouts, but it’s way too late.

The duck that had caught Alfie’s attention has flown away to safety, but Alfie isn’t coordinated enough to stop his current trajectory, which Arthur is unfortunately also on. Alfie is not a big puppy, so he only splashes into the water up to his legs before he stops, apparently satisfied with the flock of ducks that has suddenly taken to the air. The problem is he’d somehow gotten his leash wrapped around Arthur’s ankle at some point in the chaos and his choice to stop only a few inches into the lake does nothing to stop Arthur from tripping several inches more and going down hard in the shallows. When Arthur comes up, spluttering, the first face he sees is Alfie’s, looking at first surprised and then delighted that his papa has decided to play with him. He leaps into Arthur’s lap and does his very best to lick all the lake water from Arthur’s chin.

Eames has splashed his way to them by the time Arthur gives up on being angry in favor of accepting his lot in life, which is surprising. He really doesn’t want to look up at Eames’s face, see whatever expression might be waiting for him – judgment or mockery or worse – but then there’s a hand in front of his face and Arthur notices Eames’s shoes on the shore, Isobel sitting next to them looking affronted at the entire display, and he can’t help but start laughing.

“Arthur, darling, are you alright?”

In lieu of answering, Arthur wraps an arm around Alfie and hooks his fingers around Eames’s wrist, lets the man pull him to standing. He’s still too embarrassed and a little too manic to look at Eames properly, but Eames doesn’t let go of his hand and then there are fingers curling under his chin, nudging it upward until he’s forced to look Eames in the eye and see the crinkles at the corners that mean he’s smiling wide. Eames kisses him then, standing in a lake in the middle of a park. 

“Perhaps we should skip dinner,” Eames murmurs as he pulls away, eyes raking obviously over Arthur’s torso and Arthur remembers that the shirt he’s wearing was white and is now most definitely see through.

“Maybe we could eat in? At my place?” Eames’s smile turns sharp and Arthur is pretty sure the sparkle in his eye is lust and not the reflection of the moonlight.

“Darling,” he rumbles and kisses Arthur again.

Arthur takes it as a yes.

…

They get through the door like respectable adults. Arthur undoes the locks and Eames follows him over the threshold without crowding him. Alfie runs off the second Arthur gets him unhooked from his leash and returns with his favorite stuffed bunny and presents it to Isobel, dropping it at her feet. She yips happily and her tail wags, hitting Eames’s leg with a steady muffled thump.

“What a gentleman, you are,” Eames says softly to Alfie, who grins and barks, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

“You’re the first person besides Ariadne he hasn’t tried to run out of the house,” Arthur muses, brows raised in surprise.

“Maybe he approves of me.”

“Let’s wait until we see the state of your shoes when you leave to make that decision,” Arthur says, but the butterflies are back, making themselves known with a vengeance. “We could put them in the pen,” he suggests, shrugging, not knowing how Eames will take it.

“Sounds like a very good idea,” Eames says, smile ticking up at the corner, like he knows exactly what the subtext in Arthur’s suggestion was. He takes a step closer, reaches out until his fingertips are brushing against Arthur’s shirt, right where it’s tucked into his pants. “Especially if I don’t want to have to worry about my shoes.”

Arthur smiles and closes the distance between them, moving into Eames’s space until his palm is resting flat against Arthur’s stomach. The twinkle in Eames’s eye is back as he leans in to press their mouths together, his lips soft against Arthur’s. Arthur chuckles into the kiss and any lingering awkward tension dissipates with his laugh. They break apart long enough to get the puppies in the pen, ignoring the petulant looks they’re given in response. Alfie tries to nip at Arthur’s fingers to express his distaste at being incarcerated in the kitchen, but Isobel decides she doesn’t mind so much as long as she has someone to play with and pounces on Alfie’s back, knocking him to the floor with a happy bark.

They make it to the bedroom without major injury, forgoing any type of full length tour of the apartment for later.

“You’re so fit,” Eames breathes against Arthur’s cheek as his fingers are busy working at the buttons of Arthur’s shirt. “Couldn’t believe you were real at that dog park. You look like a bloody GQ model. It’s ridiculous. You look like sex in a suit. I bet you look even better out of it.”

Arthur’s only catching every other word, caught on the way Eames’s tongue purrs out ‘r’’s like a giant cat. He’s not taller than Arthur but he is so much broader, obvious in the way his shoulders strain against his shirt. Arthur can’t stop running his hands over Eames’s deltoids, feeling them flex beneath his fingers as Eames moves. He is the opposite of Arthur’s type normally, not quite as polished as Arthur usually goes for, but Eames is clearly very comfortable in his own skin and that somehow makes Arthur more comfortable. He doesn’t feel like he needs to put up a front for Eames, he doesn’t have to be perfect, polished Arthur with his life together and a dog that doesn’t pee on the front door every time a stranger walks down the hallway. He can be himself and that’s an aphrodisiac all on its own.

“I’m not – I’m not a model,” he protests breathily when Eames finally gets him divested of his shirt and lays him out on the bed.

Eames just stands there for a moment, looking down at him, and Arthur has the sudden urge to cover himself or something. The point is to be naked and to be seen, obviously, but he can’t remember anyone ever looking at him like Eames is now, like Arthur’s all he’s ever wanted. Like no one could be any more beautiful in any situation than Arthur is right now.

“I know you aren’t, darling. You’re so much better. You’re real,” Eames all but growls before he pounces, startling a delighted laugh out of Arthur.

Alfie’s behavioral problems may just be the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

…

They’re naked and sweaty and only halfway under the covers, legs tangled together and three of Eames’s fingers working inside him, when Arthur hears it – they’re both panting pretty loudly as they move together but there are a few breaths too many in the room. Two too many to be exact.

“Eames, Eames stop.” Eames sits up immediately, panic written clear on his face. “No, it’s not - It’s fine, it’s great! Crap. Just. Alfie,” he finishes lamely, hooking his ankles together behind Eames’s back to keep him from backing too far away.

“What?” Dawning registers on Eames’s features, his face going slack as he figures it out and twists to look over his shoulder at where Alfie and Isobel are perched together on the end of the bed, mouths wide open in identical puppy grins.

“Oh my God,” Eames snorts, doubling over and burying his face in Arthur’s neck as he laughs.

“Eames, I can’t with them in here,” Arthur hisses, even though the way Eames’s laughter is making him rock against Arthur isn’t doing much to convince little Arthur that there’s a problem.

“How did they get out of the pen?” Eames gasps through his guffaws, breath wet and hot against Arthur’s already sweat slicked skin. Arthur drops back against the pillows, silently bemoaning his life.

“My dog is a menace.”

“An adorable menace though.” Eames smiles at him when he finally comes up for air.

“If you were wearing anything leather when you came in here, you might change your mind when you find out he’s eaten it.” Eames leans down and kisses him thoroughly and when he pulls back, the looks on his face is so fond, Arthur can _feel_ himself flushing.

“No, darling, I don’t think I will.”

 

 


End file.
